Comedy of Coupling
by Sth10
Summary: A protection assignment leads to problems for John Boulton when an old flame returns, threatening his relationship with Claire
1. Default Chapter

**DISCLAIMER**: - 'The Bill' characters depicted in this story are copyrighted to Thames Television/Pearson Corp. All other characters depicted in this story are copyrighted to the relevant author or creator.  
  
**COMEDY OF COUPLING**  
  
The stage lights shone down onto her bright, smiling face, setting the beautiful green eyes alight as she faced her final-night audience. She drank in their wild applause, raising her hand high into the air, and took her last bow. She deserved this, and she knew it.  
  
Her co-stars joined her before the curtain fell; the director, producer and writer pushily barging their way into the line with all the arrogance men like them had. They all looked out over the sea of faces, each drawing their own individual glory. She barely knew the others were there. That applause was for her, the cheers, whistles and shouts belonged to no one else but her. Another month and it would be the same all over again, with a new director, new co-stars, new stage and a new audience. But the acknowledgement would still be hers - hers and hers alone.  
  
The curtain finally fell, and gradually the applause died. One by one, the others left the stage to start the alcohol flowing. She was left alone, taking her last breath of the atmosphere she had created. Once it had meant so much to her, had brought tears to her eyes, made her heart swell until it was near to bursting. Her smiles and gestures had been genuine, her elation real. Now, however, they were just part of the show. Nothing else. She'd done this too many times for it to mean anything of huge importance. Just another final night. Just another audience, another play, another pay cheque.  
  
As the fixed smile died from her face, she moved off the stage and into the wings. She saw something out the corner of her eye, a fleeting shadow, the slightest of movements. She stopped and looked around her, but saw nothing. Thinking little else of it, she continued down the stairs towards her dressing room. A pair of eyes watched her go, and glinted knowingly  
  
X X X  
  
"Jesus Christ, this is a load of crap!" The familiar Scouse tones broke the silence in the room.  
  
Five pairs of eyes moved to settle on the speaker. John Boulton shrugged defensively and looked back at his colleagues with his usual stubbornness.  
  
"Just what I was gonna say," Don agreed quickly, on the side of blokes to the end.  
  
"An' me," contributed Mickey with his usual helpfulness.  
  
"Oh, shut up." Kerry deliberately leant forward and turned up the volume on the TV version of Gone With The Wind. "No one's forcing you to watch it."  
  
"Excuse me! Claire's threatened to hammer me with the remote if I make so much as a comment!" John started up with some heat.  
  
He was silenced as his girlfriend promptly followed up on her threat and smartly whacked him on the back of the head with the plastic control.  
  
"Oi! That telly was brand new last week!" Duncan was beginning to regret inviting his colleagues round for the evening whilst Shona was away. "Gimme that remote!"  
  
He scrambled up from his armchair as John grabbed hold of Claire to try and wrestle the remote away from her. He snatched it away before either could win, saving John from another clout.  
  
"God, you're no fun." John, with several cans of lager and some strange Scottish brandy inside him, was in a particularly relaxed mood.  
  
"Least I'm not acting like a sixteen-year-old!" Duncan snorted impressively.  
  
He was disheartened to find no one was taking the slightest bit of notice of him. Mickey had gone off in search of more alcohol, and Duncan could only pray the DC wouldn't find the ten-year single malt Shona had been saving. Don's attention had returned to his curry and the orange liquid was coming dangerously close to dripping off his naan bread onto the white shag-pile carpet. Kerry was concentrating on the film once again, finding Rhett Butler a hell of a lot more interesting than her real-life company. And John and Claire had stretched out across the couch again, entwined in each other's arms, and were whispering between themselves with their faces centimetres apart. He might as well just not be there; none of that lot would notice if he wasn't.  
  
He gallantly averted his gaze as the couple's lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. It really had been a lot easier when they'd kept their relationship a secret, and a hell of a lot less hassle. He didn't know what to do now, when they would stand in the middle of the office with their arms wrapped round each other, kiss anywhere including at the coffee machine in front of uniform, and walk around as if they were joined at the hip.  
  
"I'm bored," John announced once he'd regained the proper use of his mouth, and grinned innocently as Claire's elbow connected with his ribs. "...I mean..."  
  
"You mean you're being an annoying arsehole and you're going to shut up right now."  
  
"Is it nearly finished?" Mickey reappeared with another glassful of something.  
  
"No!" Kerry's look could have killed. "It only started half an hour ago!"  
  
"Oh God!" All four men moaned in unison.  
  
Five minutes later the front door slammed as the men escaped to the pub, and finally gave the women peace for the first time all night. Claire found a bottle of nice-looking single malt hidden behind a stack of plates in the kitchen, and they set about consuming it before the lads returned, to the background of "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."  
  
X X X  
  
Six members of CID were feeling particularly delicate the next morning. Their colleagues watched with great amusement as they fought over the coffee and searched desks for elusive paracetamol, rarely being successful. It had turned out that the lads were less worse-for-wear after nearly three hours down the pub than Claire and Kerry were after half an hour with the Scotch. All except Mickey had swore never to drink again, as was a regular occurrence every Monday morning.  
  
"Duncan's never gonna let us in the front door again." John leant over Claire's chair to speak into her ear, and swipe her coffee.  
  
"Get off! Is he still going on about the whiskey?"  
  
"Apparently its from the family distillery. He's been saving it for ten years."  
  
"Shouldn't have left it lying around, then."  
  
"Claire!" Deakin's shout through his open door quietened the office. "I need a word, when you've got a free minute." He looked pointedly at John.  
  
John glared back but retreated to his own desk as Claire reluctantly got up and moved to Deakin's office.  
  
"Heavy night?" The DI's eyes were amused.  
  
Claire's weren't. "Something like that, guv."  
  
"I suppose I don't really want to know. Have a seat."  
  
Claire shut the door and moved to lean against the window, hers and John's usual position. She tried to ignore the pounding hammers in her skull and concentrate on what Deakin was saying. Bloody Duncan and his bloody Scotch.  
  
"Claire, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"  
  
"Yeah, guv... Something about..."  
  
Deakin glared at her. "I said; have you ever heard of an actress called Carrie McDonnell?"  
  
"Name rings a bell. Don't know anything about her though, not a big star or anything."  
  
"No, she isn't. Was quite well known in the sixties in the theatre, but she's never had a major shot. She took a break a few years ago, but she's back doing plays again now. She's just arrived in the West End to do some Arthur Miller thing or another..."  
  
"Don't tell me, you want me to get you tickets." Claire interrupted.  
  
"No, Claire, I don't."  
  
"Then why're you telling me about this woman?" She wasn't in the mood for Cryptic Crossword.  
  
Deakin wasn't put off. "Apparently she's got a stalker. Been sending her dodgy letters, trying it on over the phone, even sent her his underwear at one point. He leaves little presents for her at the theatre – chocolates, flowers, lingerie, the lot, but no one's got a bloody clue who he is. We don't know how far he's prepared to go. In fact, the only thing we do know is he's infatuated with this actress."  
  
"How nice for her. Why should I be bothered?"  
  
"Because you're gonna keep her safe from him."  
  
Claire's eyes sparked instantly, her jaw tightening. "You what?! Since when do we do the West End's dirty work?! That's WEC's patch; it's their problem!"  
  
"No, Claire, it's our problem."  
  
"How'd you work that out?!"  
  
"Ms McDonnell has specifically requested officers from Sun Hill to take on the case. She won't have anyone else near her or her play. So unless we want to risk a murder we could prevented, we've got to take this one."  
  
"But... I mean... why...?"  
  
"She grew up in Sun Hill. When she was performing as a kid, she always had a Sun Hill copper playing bodyguard for the evening. Seems like she's still got trust in our ability."  
  
"Can't we persuade her to have trust in WEC's ability?"  
  
"No, Claire, we can't. I've picked you specially for the job; we need a bit of diplomacy on this one." Deakin seemed pleased with himself, and with Claire's reaction. "I think you're one of my most tactful officers and hopefully you'll be able to deal with Ms. McDonnell."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure I'll have no bloody problems," Claire muttered, far from amused. "Can I have John with me?"  
  
"No, you cannot! You'd both be dismissed the second he opened his mouth! I want tact and diplomacy, not aggression and bloody hell-raising!"  
  
"Guv, that's not on!"  
  
"When it comes to John Boulton, it's perfectly on!"  
  
Claire gave him a look of pure ice. "Who am I being partnered with then?"  
  
"Kerry."  
  
"Kerry?!"  
  
"You got a problem with her now?"  
  
"No, guv. I'm just thinking that it might not be the best idea to put two women against someone who could turn out to be a six foot five, 20 stone boxer!"  
  
"Don't you start dramatising! I've had that all morning from some bloody agent!"  
  
"Guv, I'm sorry, but I'm not happy."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry, but there's no one else. Duncan and Geoff are in court all week. Mickey's not moving from the office until he's finished that mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk. Danny's on holiday, Don's doing that obbo on the Cockroft for the rufees dealer and I'm not going within five miles of any egomaniacal actress. So that leaves you and Kerry."  
  
"And John."  
  
"No! Not and John!"  
  
"Just give him a chance, guv. If he screws up, you can tell him to sod off and leave me and Kerry to deal with it. I just think it'll be safer for everyone, including this actress, if we've got a bit of brawn to go with the brains."  
  
"And I suppose you and Kerry are the brains, of course."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Deakin allowed a smile. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to have a bit of back- up in case anything turns nasty."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"But I'm not happy."  
  
"Didn't expect you to be."  
  
"And I don't want you two to be too busy staring into each other's eyes to notice a bloke standing in the wings with a knife."  
  
"Guv, we'll be totally professional. This actress won't even know we're together."  
  
Deakin looked heavenwards. "Get John in here."  
  
John entered the office wondering what the hell was going on. Less than a minute later, the entire office heard his reaction.  
  
"You've gotta be bloody joking!!!!"  
  
X X X  
  
"I can't believe you did this to me!" John hissed.  
  
"I thought I was doing you a favour!" Claire shot back.  
  
"Well you weren't! What do I want to go near some over-polished stuck-up cow for?!"  
  
"Because..."  
  
"When you two have quite finished?" Deakin gave them both a glare as the four officers, now including Kerry, sat side-by-side outside Brownlow's office, waiting to be summoned to meet their celebrity 'victim'. "If you're going to kill each other, wait until you're well away from me. I don't intend to get caught up in the bloodshed."  
  
John ignored the DI completely. "If you think I'm gonna be nice to her, put up with any baby tempers, or any other crap she's got in her stupid little brain, you've all got another think coming."  
  
"Claire..." Deakin started up.  
  
"He'll be the perfect gentleman, guv. Don't worry."  
  
Somehow Deakin didn't manage to look convinced. Kerry grinned to herself and exchanged knowing looks with Claire. John just stared straight ahead and wondered why God created women. Then he thought back to the night before, and remembered.  
  
"Mr Deakin? Would you and the officers like to go in?" Brownlow's secretary glanced over at them, making sure she looked down her nose at John, as was customary.  
  
Deakin got to his feet, giving the couple his most pointed look. "Just remember; smile and agree with everything. And don't mention egos."  
  
Claire's elbow found her boyfriend's ribs just to reinforce the point. "If you step one foot out of line, I'll hit you with more than a TV remote."  
  
John nearly choked trying not to laugh as he followed the others into the firing line, giving the door a shove to shut it behind him. The bang echoed round the quiet office, making Brownlow glare in his direction. John didn't even grace him with a glance, his gaze being drawn to the woman standing in front of the Superintendent's desk.  
  
Carrie McDonnell was older than he'd imagined, well over fifty, but preserved like some delicate china doll. She instantly struck him as being just the sort to look down her nose at everyone, think she owned the world. She was nearly as tall as him, but almost fragilely slim, without a inch of fat on her, and looked as if she had spent a great deal of money fighting the lines of age. He knew almost immediately that she was not going to be easy to handle. She was the stereotypical spoilt, egotistical actress used to getting her own way at the click of a finger. Things would undoubtedly get interesting if she tried anything on with him.  
  
Brownlow cleared his throat awkwardly, more than aware that John, and indeed Deakin, were checking his guest out not merely from a professional point of view.  
  
"Ms McDonnell, these are the officers that have been assigned to your case." He quickly recovered his composure and got to his feet with the usual pathetic politeness he reserved for highly important people. "My detective inspector, Chris Deakin."  
  
John studied his shoes with great interest as his colleagues were introduced to the actress, never once looking up.  
  
"And Detective Sergeant John Boulton."  
  
Expressionless, John raised his head and reached out to shake the hand that was gracefully extended to him. The surprise registered in the actress's face for a split second as he applied his usual pressure for a naturally firm handshake, but she was back to smiling brightly within a second. She was so false that John wondered if she was actually real underneath.  
  
"A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Boulton."  
  
"Yeah," he muttered, uncomfortably shifting as he felt her eyes sweep over him. Jesus Christ, this woman was nearly old enough to be his mother, and she was checking him out. Thank God he was going to have Claire with him.  
  
He averted his gaze again, but her eyes didn't move from him. He could feel her taking in every detail, photographing him with her eyes. He felt an incredible urge to tell her to take a picture; it'd last longer, but managed to resist the temptation.  
  
"Have you ever seen any of my plays?" The fake smile hadn't faltered.  
  
"Didn't even know you existed until the DI told me," John replied with his own fake cheerfulness. He was delighted to see the smile fade almost immediately.  
  
"Yes, thank you, John." Brownlow jumped in with a look of something halfway between horror and complete cynicism. He'd known this would happen. Put John Boulton in a situation requiring the least bit of discretion, and the result would be chaos. "Ms. McDonnell, are you sure you wouldn't rather let West End Central deal with this? I'm sure they're much better equipped than us..." He made one last attempt to save the station's reputation before John Boulton trod all over it his size tens.  
  
"I don't know Central. I know Sun Hill, and I have the best faith in its officers, if they're anywhere near as good as the ones I used to know. Which I'm sure they are." She replaced the smile with one more dazzling, aimed directly at John.  
  
"Well, you certainly won't be bored by them, Ms McDonnell," Deakin contributed. "Let's put it that way."  
  
X X X  
  
John flicked through the sheaf of papers Deakin had presented them with at the briefing.  
  
"I suppose you've got a problem, John." The DI noticed his look.  
  
"Yeah, I have, actually..."  
  
"What a surprise."  
  
John continued without missing a beat. "Why'd we have to stay at the hotel? We've gotta put up with her all day, and then we've gotta spend the night five yards away from her as well?"  
  
"For God's sake, John! You're getting free accommodation at the London Dock! What more d'you want?"  
  
"To go home and get away from her at the end of the day."  
  
"Well too bad. Anyway, its not like you're gonna be in the same room as her. Her suite's next door to yours."  
  
"Oh fancy that," John drawled in his best Scouse scally tones. "So we'll get to be a whole ten metres apart."  
  
"Stop moaning."  
  
John scowled. "Why can't she have a flat like everyone else?"  
  
"Because she's based in Bath!"  
  
"Bloody stupid place for an actress to be based. And why doesn't she just buy a flat?"  
  
"John, shut up."  
  
"But..."  
  
"But nothing. You're not going to be with her twenty-four seven. You'll get chance to go home."  
  
"And we only have to play bodyguard until we sort this stalker problem out, right?"  
  
Deakin sighed. "Yes, John."  
  
"Then this is gonna be the fastest clear-up in the history of Sun Hill. I'll say two days tops."  
  
Claire and Kerry grinned. Deakin didn't.  
  
"Do I need to remind you that Mr Brownlow doesn't want you near this operation?" He gave John his steeliest glare. "Why don't you try proving you're capable of acting like a civilised human-being occasionally? Then you might spend a bit more time in his good books."  
  
"I don't really care which book I'm in."  
  
"Well I do!"  
  
John sighed audibly. He glanced through the papers again, then his eyes lit up and he gave his most wicked grin. "Hey, guv? There's only two rooms in this suite. Does that mean..."  
  
"No, it does not! It means you're sleeping on the couch, and Claire and Kerry are having the single rooms. And if you start getting any ideas..."  
  
"All right, all right! Only asking!"  
  
"Don't worry, guv. We can always handcuff him to the toilet if he steps out of line," Claire contributed.  
  
"How reassuring. Right, apart from John, is everyone happy?"  
  
They shrugged noncommittally, and Deakin gave up.  
  
X X X  
  
John inserted the swipe card and pushed the suite door open.  
  
"Jesus Christ. No wonder Brownlow was doing his nut about the budget."  
  
"Nah, he got a discount and Carrie's company's paying for half. No expense spared when it comes to her." Claire appeared beside him. "And you could at least've offered to carry my stuff. Some boyfriend you are."  
  
He grinned. "What you moaning about? I gave you a lift, didn't I? All the way to yours, and all the way to mine, and aaaall the way here." His eyes lit up, enjoying the chance to wind her up.  
  
She moved closer as he slyly reached out and wrapped his arm round her waist. "I take it all back. I couldn't ask for anyone more obliging." She rolled her eyes heavenward and took hold of the front of his t-shirt. "C'mere."  
  
"Thought you'd never ask." He didn't need telling twice, dropping his head and pressing his lips softly against hers in a long kiss. Their arms tightened round each other, and Claire reached up to run her hand across the back of his close-cut hair, a now-natural gesture of affection. John grinned as he felt the familiar tingle run down his spine, reluctantly releasing her as a passing chambermaid gave them a snooty look.  
  
"We're gonna get kicked out in a minute." Claire couldn't help but grin.  
  
"Better get some privacy, then." His own grin was even more wicked. Giving the door another shove, he threw their bags carelessly into the room, letting them crash down in the middle of the carpet.  
  
"My bloody CD player's in there!"  
  
"Shut up and come here." He grabbed hold of her hand again and pulled her inside, hurling himself onto the huge couch. His force made Claire lose her balance and she collapsed on top of him, helpless with laughter, just as Kerry walked in.  
  
"Shall I come back in half an hour?"  
  
John buried his face in a cushion to try and gain some control.  
  
"Don't worry, Kerry. We're being totally professional." Claire managed to put on a straight face.  
  
"Yeah, looks like it."  
  
John was still killing himself as the DC escaped into one of the small adjoining rooms.  
  
"You're beyond help!" Claire gave him a shove. "I knew you were gonna be a bad influence."  
  
"Me? You started it..."  
  
He didn't get chance to finish before she clapped a cushion over his head.  
  
"I told the DI that Carrie won't even know we're a couple."  
  
"She must be blind, then." Kerry reappeared in the doorway. "It's obvious to any idiot you're together."  
  
"You didn't know for nearly two months," John shot back, emerging from under the cushion.  
  
"That was different...!"  
  
"How?"  
  
"John, knock it off." Claire got to her feet with regained dignity. "This is gonna be hell if you two insist on fighting like cat and dog."  
  
"It's gonna be hell anyway!"  
  
"Keep your bloody voice down! Carrie's only in the next room!"  
  
John shrugged casually, obviously not giving a toss.  
  
"You think we should let her know we're here?" Kerry moved back into the room, more comfortable now the couple were apart.  
  
"No," John immediately said.  
  
"Better had," Claire decided at exactly the same time.  
  
They both glared at each other as Kerry watched, more than aware of who would win. She grinned as John threw his hands up and dropped back against the couch. Only Claire could do that.  
  
"Come on. You might get to watch the rugby if you hurry up." Claire started towards the door separating the two suites.  
  
If there was one thing that would make John move, it was the promise of a couple of hour's peace to watch the sport his world revolved around. He was on his feet in a second, but made sure Claire and Kerry went first, entering Carrie's suite behind them with his hands buried deep in his jeans pockets.  
  
Carrie was led full-length across the couch, a crystal glass of something in her hand. A man with floppy dark hair and an unbelievably loud shirt sat in one of the armchairs, legs neatly crossed and hands folded in his lap. John clocked him immediately, and wasn't impressed.  
  
"We just wanted to let you know we've arrived, Carrie." Claire was forced to take the lead when it became obvious John and Kerry's attention was focused on the man.  
  
"That's great, thank you." The actress gave the expected gracious smile. "Would you like a glass of something?"  
  
"No, we're all right, thanks."  
  
John became aware of Carrie's eyes on him. He deliberately avoided her gaze, still looking somewhat dubiously at her companion. "Who's the fashion guru?"  
  
Carrie gave a delicate tinkle of a laugh that made John cringe. "Fashion guru? We live in hope. This is Anthony. I suppose you might call him a manservant. He keeps everything in order for me, don't you, Anthony?"  
  
The young man raised his eyes to acknowledge her.  
  
"I couldn't possibly cope without him." Carrie gave an exaggerated sweep of her hand. "He's just wonderful to have around; travels everywhere with me, spends hours at the theatres, helps me learn my lines, cooks, washes..."  
  
"How nice for him," John interrupted, looking about as interested as a corpse.  
  
Anthony eyed him expressionless, and tossed his head to flip a piece of hair out of his eyes. John noticed he had blond streaks.  
  
"Okay, we'll give you a bit of space." He started back towards the door.  
  
"You can stay and have a drink if you want, John." Carrie gave him the smile she seemed to have reserved especially for him.  
  
"Nah, you're all right."  
  
"Anyone would think you don't like my company."  
  
John gave a grin as false as hers. "What makes you think that?"  
  
X X X  
  
That night, as the TV played Eastenders for no one's benefit but its own, CID's answer to Romeo and Juliet lay together in each other's arms, precariously trying to share Claire's bed.  
  
"I thought Deakin was messin' when he said it was a single," John mumbled.  
  
"You can go back to the couch if you want."  
  
"You know you'd only be lonely without me." He grinned and moved closer to her, trapping her in his strong arms.  
  
"Oi, I told you! We're gonna be totally professional about this, so don't go getting any ideas."  
  
"Oh come on! Kerry's still down at the bar with that weirdo..."  
  
"His name's Anthony."  
  
"He's a weirdo," John emphasised with great conviction. "And as I was saying..."  
  
"It doesn't matter what you were saying, because it isn't going to get you anywhere." She touched his nose with her finger, as she knew annoyed him. "You're not even sleeping in here, let alone getting up to anything else, so why don't you try thinking with your brain instead of another part of your anatomy."  
  
He gave a mock scowl. "You don't normally complain."  
  
"Shut up or I'll kick you out now."  
  
"Oh don't, I'm just gettin' warm."  
  
She grinned and nestled closer against him. "What's with you and Carrie?"  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"You don't exactly seem to have hit it off with her."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, why haven't you?"  
  
"Because I don't like her." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, looking as if he didn't have a clue why she hadn't figured that one out for herself.  
  
"And why don't you like her?"  
  
"God, have I walked in on Mastermind or something? I don't like her because she an egomaniacal, false drama queen."  
  
"Aren't you more bothered about the fact she's never taken her eyes off you since we arrived?"  
  
He was quiet for a moment, before his face broke into a wicked grin. "It's scary, having someone old enough to be my mam checking me out." He rested his head against hers. "Rather have you any day."  
  
"I should think so!"  
  
His arms tightened around her. "So... does that mean I can stay in here tonight?"  
  
X X X  
  
"I really want to go home."  
  
Kerry glanced across the breakfast table at Claire. "Has he stopped moaning for more than five minutes since we got here?"  
  
"I think he once managed seven minutes, but then he remembered he'd missed the hi-lights of the Heineken Cup." Claire grinned wickedly and reached to pat John's hand. "You'll get over it one day."  
  
He scowled and got up. "Not funny."  
  
"Where you going now?"  
  
"Heard there was a gym; thought I might check it out. I'll get less hassle there." He gave both women a very pointed look before he left the dining room.  
  
Claire and Kerry exchanged glances and collapsed into helpless laughter. "You can only wind a man up like that."  
  
Kerry grinned. "Let's face it, you can only wind John Boulton up like that."  
  
"He'll be happier once he's had an hour in the gym. You know what he's like."  
  
Kerry's eyes glinted. "Not like you do, sarge."  
  
"Oh don't you start! God, we thought all the jokes would've died down after the first couple of weeks."  
  
"Come on! You didn't seriously think we'd let something like that go, did you? I mean, John Boulton, tamed and in a stable relationship? We all thought we'd never see the day."  
  
"You just don't see the other side to him."  
  
"But I'm sure you do..." Kerry caught the hint of gossip and moved in.  
  
"No chance; I'm not telling you anything."  
  
There was a few seconds silence before Kerry carefully raised her eyes to meet Claire's. "Do you love him, sarge?"  
  
"... I think that's between me and John..."  
  
"Coz I was gonna say, even if you don't, can you keep this thing going?" She smiled, enjoying the wind-up. "For our sakes? John's never been so easy to be around than since you two got together. He's almost been nice."  
  
Claire looked up, her own smile soft. "Believe me, Kerry, I don't want it to end anymore than you do."  
  
X X X  
  
John had made Kerry sit in the front as Anthony drove Carrie and her protectors to her West End theatre for the day's rehearsals. He'd also made Claire sit in the middle next to Carrie, and had squashed himself against the left-hand door to avoid being too close to either the actress or her slave. He hadn't missed Claire's amusement at his actions.  
  
"You're gonna end up being more dramatic than Carrie," She whispered in his ear once they were weaving through the traffic. "What'd you think she's gonna do, jump on you in front of us all and tear your clothes off?"  
  
"It's not funny," he hissed back. "Look at her, she's still doing it."  
  
"Don't look and you won't know."  
  
"I bloody will! I can feel her eyes on me."  
  
"Then just put her off!"  
  
John glanced at her. "Maybe I will." He leant forward over his knees. "Carrie, tell me about your stalker."  
  
"Shouldn't you be telling me about him, John? You're the policeman."  
  
"Yeah, but you're the drama queen. I bet can give me a nice song-and-dance about the whole thing and make it much more interesting with all those little hand-throws and fake smiles than I ever could." His polite smile never left his face, but the mockery in his voice was unmistakable. Kerry had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  
  
Carrie's own smile wavered ever so slightly. "I don't know what you mean, John."  
  
"I was just referring to your acting ability. I remember you demonstrated it brilliantly in my Superintendent's office yesterday."  
  
"I can assure you..."  
  
"Yes?" John leant forward even further. "Go on, Carrie. Assure me."  
  
The smile had gone completely now. "Honestly, you really are a most impossible man."  
  
John grinned. "I know. It's the company I keep."  
  
"I do hope you're not like this all the time."  
  
"Only 95%," John assured her. "Rest of the time I'm a perfect gentleman."  
  
Carrie was starting to look flustered, unable to contend with John's natural wit. "I'm sure you are."  
  
John was more than satisfied by her reaction, and decided he'd give her a break for a while. "Okay, now we've got that sorted out. About your friend the stalker..."  
  
X X X  
  
Carrie swept through the Lyric Theatre's stage door first, leaving the others to trail behind; Claire and Kerry looking round in wonder, John looking round in incredulity.  
  
"Simon! So sorry we're late, darling! We haven't messed up your schedule, have we?" She dashed to a slim leather-jacketed man with a goatee and slicked-back hair. She waved a hand to the officers. "This is Simon, our magical director."  
  
"Who're these people?" The magical director looked less than happy to see the additional three to Carrie's entourage.  
  
"The police officers I was telling you about. This is John and Claire and Kerry..."  
  
"Charmed," Simon muttered, interrupting her in mid-flow.  
  
"Feeling's mutual," John shot back, his face expressionless but his eyes warning the slighter man not to mess him around.  
  
Simon obviously got the message, hurriedly removing himself from John's path to the other side of the corridor. John was quickly discovering these theatre types were all the same - all mouth, no balls. He decided he might share that thought with Carrie and Anthony sometime.  
  
"You've had a delivery." Simon disdainfully held out a wrapped package to the actress. "I can take three guesses as to what it is."  
  
Carrie was quick to hand the package on to John. "You might be more interested in this than I am."  
  
"Didn't know you cared," he shot back. He removed the wrapping and held up an incredibly skimpy silk bra for all to see. "Very nice. Bloke's got taste."  
  
"John!" Claire elbowed him. "Give it here."  
  
"I'll get you one exactly the same for our anniversary if you want," he whispered into her ear, grinning widely. He got another elbow in the ribs for his troubles.  
  
"I can't imagine why he thinks I should be interested in anything like that." Carrie adopted a wounded tone. "I mean, honestly..."  
  
"Don't worry, we'll take care of it," Kerry reassured her. "DS Boulton will give it his full attention."  
  
"I certainly will..." John started, a wicked twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"Carrie, you're needed in five minutes." Another man interrupted the proceedings, sticking his head out of a door for long enough to yell, and probably saving John from getting a thump in the mouth from Claire.  
  
"Be right with you, Philip!" Carrie waved the other hand at him and turned to confide in John. "He's the costume designer. Very temperamental."  
  
"How fascinating." John already looked bored out his brain. "Don't you and Anthony have to go and powder your noses or something?"  
  
Anthony opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish on hearing that, trying his hardest to think of some retort. In the end he gave up and flounced off after the designer.  
  
John grinned and stretched his arms behind his head. "Boulton –1. Anthony – 0."  
  
X X X  
  
"So, what have we got so far?" Claire asked, once they were settled in the back row of the theatre as Carrie did her thing on stage.  
  
"Well, I've found out three things," John announced with a grin. "1, this play is crap. 2, men in theatre are the biggest bunch of wusses I've ever met. And 3, that present was..."  
  
"If you want to keep all your teeth, I'd shut up," Claire cut in, giving him a warning look.  
  
"All right, don't bite my head off!" He regained some degree of professionalism. "So far, we've established this stalker is like a ghost. He leaves presents for Carrie everywhere, but no one's even caught a glimpse of him. He knows her mobile number and her home number. He knows almost everything about her, even details of her childhood. He either must have a bit of money or be a very good shoplifter, coz the amount of lingerie he sends her is unbelievable and from the examples I've seen it's all expensive..." he grinned innocently and changed topic quickly as Claire glared at him. "He must also be very sick, because he's left her drawings showing exactly what he'd like to do to her, if you know what I mean."  
  
"But he hasn't made any threats." Kerry leant forward to contribute. "So far he's been pretty sick, but he hasn't been violent. He hasn't indicated he wants to se any violence. He seems to be genuinely in love with Carrie, and wants her to love him back..."  
  
"God, you sound like a psychologist," John interrupted.  
  
Kerry gave him a glare before continuing. "I've read about cases like this. The stalker starts off nice as pie, almost a gentleman, then he builds up, gets nastier and nastier. When Carrie won't respond to his fantasies or desires, he'll get angry."  
  
"I don't want to know how his brain works," John muttered. "I want to stick his stupid little arse in a cell and get out of this stupid scene, preferably within the next twenty-four hours before I go insane."  
  
"Well we aren't gonna be able to if we don't know how his brain works!" Kerry was coming very close to smacking him one herself. "We need to work out his next move, so we can be ready. Otherwise we could be here for months!"  
  
"I thought you were meant to be the sergeant, not Kerry." Claire elbowed him. "Come on, John, at least try and feign some interest."  
  
"I am trying!"  
  
"Well if this is your version of cooperating, god knows what you're gonna be like when you're resisting."  
  
John scowled and got up.  
  
"John! Where you goin?"  
  
"They have ice cream in theatres, don't they? I'm gonna find some."  
  
An hour later, up on stage, Carrie had finished her big scene and took a sweeping bow to announce the fact. Claire and Kerry clapped politely on cue. John had fallen asleep with his mouth open and his ice cream melting. 


	2. Old Flames, New Frustrations

John had left Claire and Kerry in charge of protection for a while and escaped back to Sun Hill for a much-needed dose of the real world. He was welcomed back into the office with the expected jibes and witticisms, but was happy enough to take them in return for an instant coffee and doughnut - things that didn't appear to exist at the Dock.  
  
"Is this woman gonna make you a star then, Jonathan?" Don had left the seconded Dave Quinnan to control his obbo and was determined to make the most of winding his best mate up.  
  
"I'm already a star, Don."  
  
"Yeah, right!"  
  
John dropped his jam-leaking doughnut onto a pile of paperwork. "Actually, I think I have discovered some talent in me." He grinned, seeing a good opportunity.  
  
"Oh yeah?" Mickey's ears practically pricked up.  
  
John waited until he had the attention of the whole office. "Okay, I'll demonstrate, but you've all gotta applaud at the end."  
  
The others watched, most already smiling in expectation John jumped onto his desktop. "I have to say, I think this is actually better than anything this actress has done so far, so be prepared." He drew himself up to his full height, and with great drama, threw out his arm. "Welcome to 'An Audience With John Boulton.' I am you're your host – John Boulton. And now I would like to grace with you with what is perhaps my most famous line..." As his colleagues fell silent he took a breath, stabbing a finger, and roared out: "YOU'RE NICKED!!!"  
  
The entire office burst into laughter and rapturous applause, as was required. John took an exaggerated bow and leapt down.  
  
"John!" Deakin yelled through. "Come here, now."  
  
John went. "Missed you too, guv."  
  
"What you doing here?"  
  
"Escaping from Carrie and her slave boy."  
  
Deakin looked totally bemused at that one. "You haven't been your usual charming self, have you?"  
  
"I've been faultless, guv. Ask Claire."  
  
"I'd rather not. How's it going?"  
  
"Nothin' happenin' so far. Kerry's trying to play the psychologist. Reckons we'll get this guy quicker if we can get into his head."  
  
Deakin raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, it's a thought..."  
  
"No, it isn't," John interrupted quickly. "I'd better go, guv."  
  
"Yeah, you better had."  
  
As the door closed behind his DS, Deakin pulled the Rolodex towards him and thumbed through it until he found the number he wanted. He smiled to himself.  
  
X X X  
  
"What happened to being half an hour?" Claire demanded when John ambled casually into the room, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a three-layered burger.  
  
"I got caught up being entertaining. Why, have you got our mate the stalker for me to meet?"  
  
"You wish, babe."  
  
He grinned. "I do, actually. Rather meet him any day than any more egotistical theatre prats."  
  
"John, I thought I heard you come back!" Carrie's head appeared round the separating door, much to John's chagrin. "Did I just miss something important?"  
  
"Believe me, Carrie, I don't think you'd ever miss anything of importance."  
  
She smiled, obviously not getting his meaning, and moved fully into the room. Anthony immediately followed behind like a puppy. John's good mood rapidly evaporated.  
  
"Were you terribly disappointed that nothing happened today, apart from the present?" Carrie positioned herself right next to John.  
  
"Absolutely gutted," he replied, poker-faced.  
  
"It was very strange, wasn't it, Anthony?" She'd got into her stride now. Anthony nodded cooperatively. "I mean, there's been a phone call every day for the past week, since I came down from Bath. And yet today there was nothing..."  
  
John was beginning to wonder if her stupidity was real. "Well, I doubt if it had anything to do with us being around. It's not like the presence of police officers puts criminals off or anything."  
  
Carrie trilled out a laugh. "You really should do comedy, John. You'd have the audience rolling around in the aisles."  
  
"I'm sure I would."  
  
Claire jumped in before he dug himself an even deeper hole. "Carrie, we've read the statements you gave to WEC last week. Are you sure you've no idea who this man could be?"  
  
"Like I said, I have rivals like everyone else, but they're all women. Men have no reason to make an enemy of me. In fact, it's usually exactly the opposite when it comes to them." Her eyes flitted to John once again, who found something incredibly interesting to look at on the carpet.  
  
"And you mentioned he sounded like he was putting on an accent during the phone calls?"  
  
"Actresses can pick up on these things very easily. He had a Scottish accent, very strong, but there were times when it sounded forced, as if he'd nearly forgotten and spoken normally. But he's very good at it; I really thought he was a Scot at first."  
  
John gave his most sarcastic smile. "Maybe he'll get an Oscar."  
  
X X X  
  
An hour later, John and Claire were both down in the social lounge, playing pool. Kerry was at the bar, ready to play the winner, but had realised she was going to be waiting a while. John seemed to have decided that his best winning tactic was to wrap his arms round Claire's waist every time it was her turn, as a distraction, and this caused a break of at least three minutes between every shot. In retaliation, Claire was doing exactly the same to him, with the same results. Kerry was fast getting fed up with their interpretation of the game.  
  
"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" Carrie made her entrance, nearly overpowering John with her cloud of CK1.  
  
"Actually..." John started up, half-choking.  
  
Claire trod none-too-gently on his foot before he could finish his sentence. "Course not, Carrie. No Anthony?"  
  
"He's gone back to the theatre to sort a few things out for tomorrow."  
  
"Didn't know he was capable of going anywhere without you," John muttered.  
  
Claire put her whole weight on his foot. "John'll get you a drink, won't you, John?"  
  
He scowled and shoved his cue at her. "What's everyone havin'?"  
  
"Archers for me, sarge." Kerry smiled sweetly and raised her bottle in his direction, earning herself a glare.  
  
"I'll have a Buck's Fizz, John." Carrie felt the need to move closer to place her request.  
  
"Jesus, is that stuff still goin'...?"  
  
"Pint, John." Claire saved diplomacy for the third time in minutes, physically pushing her boyfriend up to the bar. "Will you knock it off?"  
  
"I was just commenting!"  
  
"Well don't! And stop having a go at Anthony."  
  
"That bloke needs someone to have a go at him." John leant moodily against the bar. "Two lagers, bottle of Archers and..." he glanced wickedly at Claire before returning his attention to the barman. "Can you find me something that looks like Buck's Fizz but isn't?"  
  
"John! Give it a rest!" She forced a smile at the bemused barman. "And a proper Buck's Fizz, please."  
  
John was distracted as Carrie came to lean next to him. She seemed about to open her mouth yet again, but didn't get chance too before her mobile rang. She gingerly removed it from her bag and looked at it.  
  
"Would you mind?" She held it out to John.  
  
He looked incredulous. "Don't tell me, Anthony always answers it for you. Well let me show you how normal people do it; you press this button here, then you talk in here and listen in there..."  
  
"But it might be him!"  
  
John was far from impressed by her stage whisper. "Yeah, but it might also be one of your theatre mates, and there's no way am I talking to any of them."  
  
Kerry rolled her eyes with great drama and snatched the phone. "For God's sake! Hello?" She frowned and pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the display. "Hello? Who is this? Hello?"  
  
"Kerry?" John reached out to take the phone.  
  
"Hung up." She shrugged and let him have it.  
  
"Did they say anything?" He pressed a couple of buttons and produced the caller's number – withheld.  
  
"No, could just hear breathing for a couple of seconds. Then that was it."  
  
"Was that him?" Carrie was eager to interrupt.  
  
"Dunno, it's generally hard to recognise someone by their breathing." John turned away from her.  
  
"Shall I give Deakin a call, sarge?" Kerry got down from her stool.  
  
"Yeah, let him know. No doubt he'll be over within the hour, desperate to lend his assistance."  
  
X X X  
  
Deakin did arrive within the hour, although not so desperate to lend his assistance. Instead he sat on the couch with a bottle of lager from the mini bar and told his officers to sit down, shut up and wait. Somewhat bemused, they did so, whilst Carrie disappeared to her suite to recover with a few G&Ts and share her distressing experience with the now-returned Anthony.  
  
"What we waiting for?" John asked, after less than a minute.  
  
Deakin ignored him. John scowled and let his arm drop round Claire's shoulders as she sat beside him. Another couple of minutes passed.  
  
"Guv...?"  
  
"Don't even say it, John. Why don't you try out this little thing called patience to keep yourself occupied? And put Claire down!"  
  
John's scowl darkened. His eyes never moving from Deakin's face, he removed his arm and sat back, splaying his legs in defiance. The DI seemed about to further his seniority when the door opened. Everyone looked at the woman that stood before them. Almost instantaneously, John and Deakin shot to their feet, and Kerry's face broke into a smile.  
  
"Sarge!"  
  
Viv Hunt's grip tightened on her laptop case. Her smile seemed slightly uneasy.  
  
"Hi, Kerry." She looked to the men. "Guv." Slowly, her eyes came to rest on the other man. Her smile became even more uncertain. "John."  
  
John didn't seem to know what to say. He mumbled something and fixed his gaze on his feet. Claire looked up at him, confused.  
  
Deakin recovered his composure. "Viv, this is DS Claire Stanton. Claire, this is DS Viv Hunt from Bramshill, part of the forensic profiling unit there. We've worked with her on a couple of occasions before."  
  
Claire got up and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you."  
  
"Yeah, you too."  
  
Deakin cleared his throat, hoping no one had noticed how he had leapt up on Viv's arrival. "... I didn't know they were sending you..."  
  
She shrugged slightly. "Luck of the draw, guv, I guess."  
  
"It's good to see you again."  
  
"Thanks." Her eyes were drawn once again to John, who still stood there looking as if he wished the floor would swallow him whole. "How are you, John?"  
  
"Fine," he mumbled, not looking up. "You?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm great."  
  
"What you doing here, sarge?" Kerry was certainly happier to see the Bramshill officer than her sergeant. She'd got on very well with Viv in the times they'd worked together.  
  
"The DI said you were wanting to get inside some guy's head. Who better than a profiler?"  
  
John's burning gaze locked onto Deakin. "You asked her to come?"  
  
"No, John, I asked a profiler to come. We need all the help we can get on this, before things get out of hand."  
  
"You saying we can't handle it...?"  
  
"God, John, have you still got a thing against people like me?" Viv couldn't help but be amused. "I knew you wouldn't change."  
  
He shifted uneasily, knowing exactly what she meant. He returned his attention to Deakin. "So, what's happening now?"  
  
"Now Viv's going to take over from Kerry. That's okay with you, isn't it, Kerry?"  
  
Kerry looked heavenwards. "Do I have any choice?"  
  
"You'll be on DS Beech's obbo." Deakin ignored the sarcasm.  
  
"Guv, a word." John grabbed his DI's arm and forcibly moved him to one side.  
  
"What the matter with you?!"  
  
"Viv's what's the matter with me!"  
  
"I thought you two sorted out your differences the last time!"  
  
"This isn't about our differences!" John hissed. "It's our bloody similarities I'm bothered about!"  
  
Deakin was bemused now. "You what?"  
  
"Oh forget it!"  
  
"No, I won't forget it. In there." Deakin jerked his head towards Claire's room. "Go on. Excuse us a minute, ladies."  
  
Claire and Kerry looked after them strangely. Viv just shifted uneasily and fiddled the strap on her case. Deakin watched her before he shut the bedroom door.  
  
"Right, what's going on?"  
  
"Nothing!" John snapped.  
  
"John!"  
  
He threw up his hands in frustration. "Let's just say Viv and I got to know each other pretty well the last time she was here, if you know what I mean."  
  
Light dawned on the DI. "Ah..."  
  
"Now I'm with Claire, and Viv and I didn't exactly part fairly and..."  
  
"Yeah, I get the picture."  
  
"So what you going to do about it?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Nothing?!"  
  
"John, you're just going to have to behave like an adult for once. Make an effort, try and get on with Viv, and attempt to keep your hands off Claire for more than five minutes at a time. Then maybe this won't be such a torturous experience for you."  
  
John scowled. "Thanks a lot."  
  
"Look, you're the only one that's kicking up about this. Viv doesn't seem to have a problem, and I can't see Claire being too fussed either. So just have a bit of maturity and try keeping your mind on things other than your incredibly complicated love life."  
  
"It isn't complicated! And I want to keep it that way!"  
  
"Just keep it professional, John. And don't share all the sordid details with me. Save that for Don; no doubt he'll be fascinated by the whole thing."  
  
John couldn't stop the wicked grin. "Nah, he'll only be interested in going after Viv."  
  
"John!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Deakin shook his head. "Just get back out there."  
  
As the DS left the room with a face like thunder, Deakin leant back against the wall, thinking. A ghost of a smile lit his eyes.  
  
X X X  
  
"It's been a long time, John."  
  
John glanced uneasily after Claire as she walked away from their table to the washroom on the other side of the dining room. He forced his gaze across to Viv, swirling ice around in his glass.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Glad to see you're open as ever."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Come off it, John. I've been here three hours and you've done everything possible to stay as far away from me as you can."  
  
John shrugged. "So?"  
  
"You haven't changed a bit, have you?"  
  
He noticed the smile playing on her lips. "Neither have you. You're still trying to bloody psychoanalyse me."  
  
"Never did work on you, did it?"  
  
He concentrated on looking into his now-empty glass. "Did you ask to get assigned to this?"  
  
"You mean did I know I'd be working with you? No, John, I didn't. I admit, I did put in a request to take it, but only because I liked working at Sun Hill the last time. I wasn't even sure you'd still be here; thought you'd be off kicking down doors and waving guns around with the Flying Squad."  
  
Even John couldn't stop a grin. "Well it hasn't happened yet. But it will, one day."  
  
Viv moved a lettuce leaf around her plate with her fork. "So, you and Claire..."  
  
"How the hell'd you know about that?" John looked up sharply. "Kerry bloody told you, didn't she?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Deakin then. I knew he'd never keep his mouth shut..."  
  
"John, no one told me."  
  
He stopped in mid-flow. "So, how'd you know?"  
  
"Believe me, it's more than obvious. Why're you so touchy about it? Do none of the others know?"  
  
"I think just about everyone in the division knows."  
  
"Then what's the problem?"  
  
John looked directly at her for the first time all evening. "Viv, let's get something straight. I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life, and so is Claire. Nothing is going to screw this up for us; it's too important. You know what I'm saying?"  
  
"No, John, I don't think I do. Are you suggesting that I might want to interfere in your relationship with Claire?"  
  
He ran a hand across his hair. "God, I don't know... I don't know what to think. It's just that... we never really sorted anything out, did we?"  
  
"I didn't think you wanted too."  
  
"Viv, don't make this difficult for me. I don't know what you want, from me, from what we had..."  
  
"You think I might want to rekindle old flames, don't you?"  
  
He met her gaze. "Yeah. I do."  
  
Viv was quiet for a minute, but her eyes never left his face. "...Then you may be right. I found something in you that I'd never found in another man before, John. We only knew each other for a couple of weeks but I learnt more about living life from you than I ever thought possible. I don't know how you did it, John, but you gave me your passion."  
  
"What passion?"  
  
She reached across and rested her hand on top of his. "Your passion for life."  
  
For what felt like minutes he just looked at her hand. Then he slowly grasped it with his own, and removed it. "Forget it, Viv. I'm not doing this. What Claire and I have, it's the most special thing I've ever experienced. She's the most special thing I've ever had. I'm not going to let her go, not for you or anyone else."  
  
Viv's eyes looked deep into his soul. "You love her, don't you?"  
  
John was quiet, refusing to meet her gaze. "Maybe I do."  
  
"...Did you ever love me...?"  
  
As if in slow motion, John raised his eyes. "There's no point in me answering that. I'm gonna find Claire."  
  
He stood abruptly and walked off across the room. Viv watched him go, and realised just what she had lost that night at St Hugh's.  
  
X X X  
  
The sound of the profiler tapping away at her laptop was the only noise to be heard in the suite. In Claire's room, John sprawled across the bed, his arms holding his lover tight as she rested her head against his chest. For the first time all night, peace had descended.  
  
"How come you're so quiet?" Claire shattered the tranquillity, raising her head slightly to look at John.  
  
"Nothing much to say."  
  
"Are you going to tell me about you and Viv yet?"  
  
She felt his muscles tighten. "You what?"  
  
"You gonna tell me there's not a bit of history between you two?"  
  
He was silent, not even looking at her.  
  
"John, I don't mind! I can accept the fact you've had girlfriends before me!"  
  
"She wasn't a girlfriend."  
  
"Then what was she?"  
  
He sighed. "I don't know... Nothing, I suppose."  
  
"But something happened between you?"  
  
"Sort of."  
  
"Go on, tell me." She grinned teasingly. "I promise not to stab you with a bread knife or have you neutered."  
  
"Thanks a lot."  
  
"Don't change the subject. Tell me, John!"  
  
"There's not much to tell." As expected, he gave in. "We got pretty close when we were working together. She kissed me in a corridor in the middle of St Hugh's the night she was due to leave..."  
  
"She kissed you?" Claire raised an eyebrow.  
  
"She did! Anyway, then she just walked away, and I thought that was it. I went home, and half an hour later she turned up on the doorstep, and..."  
  
"You spent the night together."  
  
He nodded. "Next morning she went back to Bramshill, I went to work, and we never saw each other again."  
  
Claire sat up, intrigued by now. "How come you didn't get together?"  
  
"Jesus, I'm not in the interview room! Stop interrogating me!"  
  
"No! I'm enjoying this. Go on, keep going."  
  
John gave a mock scowl. "If you must know, she was engaged. Wanted a husband and kids and a nice house in the suburbs with a garden and a dog."  
  
"And there wasn't a hope in hell's chance she'd get that with you."  
  
"Correct. Anyway, I think she wanted her nice, safe fiancée in the end. Not some mouthy Scouse nutter."  
  
Claire grinned and nestled closer to him. "Her loss. You just remember you're mine now."  
  
"Oh, I'm owned, am I?"  
  
"Course you are. I tamed you; I keep you. Make sure you're ex-whatever- she-is knows that."  
  
He wrapped his arms round her. "I don't think we'll have any problems there."  
  
"Have you talked to her?"  
  
"What about?"  
  
"About what happened after."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"Some detective you are! Didn't you notice she's not wearing a wedding ring?"  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, John, she didn't get married. Think that might've had something to do with you?"  
  
"Coincidence."  
  
"Thought you didn't believe in them."  
  
He smiled innocently. "Do now."  
  
X X X  
  
Claire's right, she isn't wearing a ring. John studied Viv closely as he sat at the back of theatre, watching Carrie start her fourth go on a scene that should have taken five minutes. God, this is ridiculous. I could do better than that! He was distracted by the actress's latest failure as she hurled a script at Anthony. Anthony merely picked up the papers and went to sit back down and continue giving encouraging looks. John grinned broadly, even more broadly than he'd grinned when Carrie had opened her admirer's daily package to find a very squashed, very melted chocolate heart that had somehow spread from the wrapping paper to her Versace top.  
  
"What you laughing at?"  
  
He looked up sharply as Viv moved up the centre aisle towards him. "The weirdo," he replied, as if that explained everything.  
  
"Tolerant and accepting as ever, I see." Viv sat down next to him.  
  
"What's up? Did you get bored of playing with your laptop?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to see you draw up a profile."  
  
"Oh that's what you've been doing! And there was me thinking you were playing Solitaire."  
  
"Yeah, thanks, John. Have you finished?"  
  
"Not even started yet."  
  
Viv kept her gaze fixed on the stage. "I heard you and Claire talking about me last night."  
  
"Why'd you bother listening? You could've just used your crystal ball and found out everything."  
  
"Do you want to know why I didn't get married?"  
  
He glanced at her, knowing he was in control. "Are you gonna tell me?"  
  
Viv picked at her thumbnail. "I couldn't go through with it. I put up with everything right up to the day, then told Stephen it wasn't going to happen just before we went into the church."  
  
"Let him down gently, then."  
  
"The reason I couldn't go through with it..." Viv continued, "was because I'd met a man who'd taught me something. He'd taught me that there was no point in bringing your life to a halt until you'd truly lived it. He'd made me see that I hadn't lived mine, but yet I was still going to halt it, and that what I was doing was the wrong thing."  
  
"I never taught you that. The only thing I taught you was how to wind up scrotes."  
  
"You're wrong, John. I saw how happy you were with your life, with no ties, no attachments, nothing to stop you from doing what you wanted, when you want. And I saw that you were living like I never had done. I'd plan months in advance. You wouldn't even plan to the next day. You'd just let everything happen as it wanted to, and still deal with it all. And you enjoyed it, that's the biggest thing. It was like you were alive, and I'd died long ago."  
  
"And that stopped you from getting married?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Aren't you going to slap me now?" he asked.  
  
"What for?"  
  
"For ruining your life."  
  
"John, you didn't ruin my life. You helped me start it."  
  
He looked straight at her, his eyes laughing. "So... do I get paid for it?"  
  
X X X  
  
"John!"  
  
John considered turning and walking in the opposite direction as Carrie swept down the corridor towards him. Instead he stood his ground and took a swig of the coffee he'd just escaped to buy. The staff at Starbucks knew his name and order off by heart now.  
  
"What?" He half-expected her to still be in near-hysterics about her chocolate-covered top.  
  
"John." She gripped his arm breathlessly, having seemingly forgotten about that incident. "Can you act?"  
  
"Um, let me think about it." He paused for less than a second. "No."  
  
"Well it is doesn't matter." She started pulling him towards the stage.  
  
"What you doing?" John refused to allow himself to be pulled.  
  
She spun round to face him. "John, I'll be honest. I need you."  
  
"Yeah, and I need to meet the captain of St Helen's and go out on the raz with him, but that's not gonna happen either."  
  
"Just come on!"  
  
John saw he wasn't going to escape from this one. With an extremely loud sigh, he let her guide him through the corridors. By the time he realised he was being taken to the wings, he was halfway onto the stage.  
  
"Do I look like some poncy theatre bloke?" he demanded, stopping dead and trying to retreat.  
  
"Trust me, you're perfect."  
  
"For what?" John looked desperately out into the audience. Only Anthony and the director sat on the front row. Claire and Viv had disappeared. Why were women never around when you needed them?  
  
"Simon!" Carrie's attention had turned to the director. "Will he do?"  
  
"Carrie, sweetheart, at this moment a donkey would do."  
  
"Oh, you can use Anthony then," John said. He grinned as Anthony's eyes narrowed to slits. Boulton – 2. Anthony –0.  
  
"You, policeman, just stand there and be quiet." Simon flapped a script in his direction.  
  
John stared threateningly towards him, outraged. "Don't tell me to be bloody quiet..."  
  
"John, John, John." Carrie took hold of his arm and brought him back to where he'd originally been standing. "Don't take any notice. Simon's just joking, aren't you, Si?"  
  
Simon gave John a look dripping with contempt but said nothing.  
  
"What the hell am I doing out here?" John demanded, beginning to get hacked off.  
  
"Improvising," Carrie informed him, as if dismissing the whole thing. "Don't worry, it's the easiest thing in the world."  
  
"It may be, but I'm not doing it."  
  
"All you have to do is stand there and read three lines. I do the rest."  
  
"Then why don't you use Anthony?"  
  
"Because you're so much better than Anthony!" The flattery was flowing fast and sickly sweet. John looked heavenwards as a piece of paper was shoved into his hand.  
  
"Ready?" Simon called up, flapping his script again.  
  
"No," John muttered.  
  
He nearly choked trying not to laugh as Carrie trilled out her line. "Eddie, can't you understand?" She nodded to him to read his part.  
  
He looked down at the paper. "What a load of crap!"  
  
"Oh for heaven's sake!" Simon leapt to his feet. "Do you have to be so...so..."  
  
"Normal?" John asked. "Realistic? Funny?"  
  
"Annoying."  
  
John scowled.  
  
"Simon, darling, why don't we just skip to the end of the scene, then John doesn't have to read anything?" Carrie suggested, making a big show of pouring oil over troubled water.  
  
"All right, just get on with it!"  
  
John folded his arms across his chest and adopted his most uncooperative stance. He watched Carrie retreat over the other side of the stage, her face buried in her hands. Her line could barely be made out between the noises she made in place of crying, sounding more like a drowning cat than anything else. He sighed loudly and tapped his foot, pleased to see Simon hurling the script across the theatre.  
  
He was so busy looking bored out of his brain, he didn't notice Carrie's ending to the scene. Before he even had chance to blink, she was in front of him, throwing her arms around him and sealing her lips against his in an embrace worthy of the passion he and Claire produced.  
  
"Hey!" He freed himself hurriedly, almost stumbling over his own feet in his hurry to escape. "Jesus Christ, what you trying to do, swallow me whole?! Get off!"  
  
"It's part of the scene, John."  
  
"Not with me it isn't!" He exaggerated making the feeling return to his mouth. "Actress or no actress, do that again and I'll have you and your laughing boys in a cell at Sun Hill. Understand?"  
  
He stormed off whilst he had the chance.  
  
X X X  
  
John read Viv's newly produced profile over Claire's shoulder, raising an eyebrow very so often.  
  
"Go on, admit it. Yo just shove down anything that comes into your head, don't you?"  
  
Viv smiled. "Course I do, John."  
  
"Think you could teach me how to do it?"  
  
"No chance."  
  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
Viv's smile widened. "Because, John, you have to be sensitive towards other people to be able to do that. You're about as a sensitive as a rhino."  
  
John allowed a grin and carried on reading.  
  
"DI Deakin thought if you showed your presence for a couple of days, this guy might take flight," Viv continued with her verbal presentation. "But the way I see it, it'll just make him more determined to have Carrie."  
  
"Obviously got more balls than we thought," John contributed.  
  
"Thanks for that, John. Anything slightly more helpful to say?"  
  
He gave it a minute's thought. "Well, we can rule a few people out from this right now."  
  
"Can we?"  
  
"Yeah. It's says here the bloke's gonna be straight, just not in a relationship. So that rules out the director, the costume designer, Anthony, and probably every other member of the crew."  
  
"John!" Claire elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
"Can we put anyone in the frame?" Viv took her profile back.  
  
"How about the guy that serves me coffee in Starbucks?" John offered.  
  
Both women ignored him.  
  
"I reckon this could just be an over-obsessed fan," Claire said. "I hate to agree with John, but I can't see it being any of the blokes we've met at the theatre. Half of them are too bothered about themselves to even think about Carrie, and the others wouldn't have the guts."  
  
"See? Bunches of wusses," John contributed.  
  
Viv flicked through her notes. "When's the show open?"  
  
"Two days."  
  
"I think that's going to be the night to watch out for. He's already moved up a gear since we've arrived. I think he might be jealous of us being around Carrie. Saturday night's going to be the one time he can really get close to her, being able to blend in as just one of the crowd."  
  
"Do you think he might get violent?" Claire asked.  
  
"If he thinks Carrie isn't going to respond to his advances, then its possible. But at the moment I think we need to watch out for ourselves. He won't want to hurt Carrie because he's in love with her. He's already getting jealous of us and I'm not prepared to say that he won't use violence to get us out of his way."  
  
Claire patted John's arm. "See. There was a reason to bringing you along."  
  
"So I can get attacked by some nutter? Thanks a lot."  
  
"I'm not saying we need to be paranoid about it." Viv pushed the papers back into her laptop case and got up. "I just think we need to consider our own safety as well as Carrie's." She picked up her case. "See you two in the morning."  
  
Claire raised a hand in acknowledgement. John merely grunted and moved onto the couch to wrap his arms round his girlfriend, his mind on other things. Viv deliberately didn't look back at them, returning to the stillness of her room. She pushed the door too behind her, leaving a gap of a few inches. As she sat on the bed, freeing the laptop from its case, she saw the gap allowed her a barely-constricted view of the couple.  
  
Suddenly awkward, she averted her gaze from the door, fixing it on the laptop screen. Five minutes passed as she refused to let herself look up. There was movement in the main room, the low sound of voices, then the warming sound of John's laugh. Viv's eyes flicked up before she could do anything about it, in time to see Claire heading for her room, leaving John alone on the couch.  
  
"Your loss!" He called after her, his face soft with humour.  
  
Viv couldn't hear Claire's answer but it obviously wasn't the one John had been hoping for, judging by how he flopped back against the cushions and turned on the TV. Never one to sit still for too long, a mixture of energy and restlessness inside him, he shifted position almost immediately. Viv watched, her fingers poised above the keyboard but receiving no instructions from her brain to do anything.  
  
It was the first time since her arrival that she'd really got to chance to look closely at him, take anything in. As expected, he hadn't changed much. Same strong-featured face with that wicked grin and beautiful hazel eyes. Same air of confidence, a self-assurance that shone out and enveloped all around him. Same complete lack of tact that somehow didn't seem such a bad thing when coupled with that Scouse sharp wit. He was a man who, even when his whole world was changing around him, would remain unaffected.  
  
He didn't seem to feel her eyes on him, stretching out comfortably and yawning as he focused on the TV screen, at his most relaxed. He looked like he'd lost weight since she'd last seen him; not that someone like him would even think of starting a health regime. Some of the bulk he'd had around his chest and shoulders was gone, giving him an overall slimmer profile and, in the tight-fitting jeans and t-shirt, his body looked more toned than she remembered. Viv felt a stab in her stomach that she instantly recognised. Jealousy.  
  
She'd never felt more jealous of anyone than she did of Claire Stanton. 


	3. Accepting The Truth

Two days and two presents (one of lingerie and one of pornographic drawings) later, Carrie's show opened. The curtain was due to go up at 8pm, but by 7:30, John was still sitting in Claire's room, waiting for her to finish getting ready.  
  
"Why do women take so long?" he complained, flopping back onto the bed.  
  
"Why do men always just throw on the first thing that comes to hand and put absolutely no effort into it whatsoever?" She glared at him in the mirror. "And still end up looking great." It was impossible to deny he looked gorgeous in the dark grey Armani suit he'd borrowed from Don.  
  
"It's a gift," he grinned.  
  
"Course it is."  
  
He got off the bed and crossed the room to her, wrapping her arms round her waist. "Speaking of looking great... You reckon we should have a quiet night in tonight?"  
  
"Can you keep your mind on anything else?!" She pushed him away in mock exasperation. "Anyone would think your world revolves around sex."  
  
"They might be right." His grin widened. "Seriously, you look fantastic."  
  
He meant it as well. In his eyes, she was fit for the catwalks of Milan and Paris in that dress. He felt a warmth ignite inside him as he looked at her, his eyes drinking in every perfect detail. He couldn't deny it; she was special.  
  
"You just going to stare at me all night or are you coming? Viv's been on her own with Carrie since half six."  
  
"Not my fault you mean an hour when you say you'll be fifteen minutes."  
  
She grabbed hold of his hand. "If you don't want blood all down that suit, move it."  
  
He let himself be pulled out into the corridor. "You sure you wouldn't rather just skip the show...?"  
  
"John! One more mention of anything sexually related and I'm gonna have you thrown in a cell for the night."  
  
"On what charge?!"  
  
She grinned widely.  
  
"Lewd behaviour. Come on."  
  
X X X  
  
In the Lyric's lobby, she only just stopped John from punching a group of rich, sophisticated-looking men wearing tuxedos and carrying opera binoculars, as they tried to jostle past. John took a threatening step after them, looking intent on having a go.  
  
"Knock it off." Claire elbowed him in the ribs. "They're the type to have you in front of the magistrates before you can blink."  
  
He scowled. "Stuck up ponces."  
  
"Thanks for joining me," a voice said behind them.  
  
Both turned to face Viv. Claire looked apologetic. John looked dumbstruck. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the figure-hugging, strappy dress that clung to Viv's slim body. His throat went dry and he felt himself getting distinctly hot. He tugged hard at his shirt collar.  
  
"Carrie's preparing herself. Doesn't want us around to disturb her." If Viv noticed John's reaction, she didn't show it. "Coming through?"  
  
"Yeah, sure." Claire gave a smile and followed the Bramshill detective towards the 'staff only' door.  
  
John swallowed hard and forced his legs to work, trailing behind as he looked from one woman to the other. Don Beech would have been in seventh heaven at that moment.  
  
"Any presents left?" His voice was slightly higher than usual when he finally got round to speaking.  
  
"Card and more lingerie."  
  
"Any message?" Claire asked.  
  
"'Soon it'll be just me and you, my love'." Viv grimaced. "Bit creepier than all the other presents he's sent, if you ask me."  
  
"Reckon tonight'll be the night?"  
  
"I think John would be quite safe to offer up his warrant card for eating on this one, let's put it that way."  
  
John realised his name had been said and quickly found something interesting to look at on the wall.  
  
"Have you phoned Deakin?"  
  
"Yeah. He's got us a couple of uniforms from WEC milling about, just in case."  
  
"A couple? That's really going to help," John muttered.  
  
Viv ignored him.  
  
"I think we should keep John in the wings, closest to Carrie. I don't think this guy is particularly brave, so if there's another man nearby, someone who looks like he'll put up a fight, he might not be so inclined to try violence."  
  
"There you go, lover." Claire grinned back at John. "You've got your calling. Go and look like a hard man in the wings."  
  
"I am a hard man."  
  
X X X  
  
John yawned and leant more heavily against the wall as he stood in the wings, half-watching Carrie on stage. He was trying to concentrate, but his eyes kept straying to focus on Claire and Viv as they sat together in the front row. They were a distraction that wasn't easy to ignore.  
  
He sighed loudly and shifted from one foot to the other, tugging irritably at his collar again. He re-read the card left for Carrie again, and half- wished that Deakin hadn't whisked the pictures from yesterday away for 'analysis'. They'd certainly been more interesting than some creepy card. Not that Claire or Viv were likely to agree.  
  
He forced his attention back to the stage. Carrie was finally at the end of her last scene. The stupid play had lasted over one and a half hours. John remembered why he had always hated being dragged on Drama theatre trips at school.  
  
"Is this thing ever going to finish?" he moaned at Anthony as the young man appeared behind him.  
  
Anthony looked down his nose. "Someone like you couldn't possibly appreciate the values of a play like this?"  
  
John snorted. "And someone like you could? Sod off and be a ponce somewhere else."  
  
The young man stared at him for a long minute out of expressionless eyes. Then he turned around and stormed off, flicking his hair. John grinned broadly and returned his gaze to the stage as the audience began applauding. He saw neither Claire nor Viv looked particularly enthusiastic as they joined in, but one look at Carrie's face told him that she hadn't noticed.  
  
Finally, the curtain fell. The actors left the stage, lighting up cigarettes and talking amongst themselves. Carrie was the last off, her face alight with exhilaration. Whatever else was false about her, her love for the theatre wasn't.  
  
"Did you enjoy it, John?" she asked, breathlessly.  
  
"Sorry, Carrie, didn't have much time to take any of it in." He put on an apologetic face. "Sure it was great, though."  
  
His lack of sincerity missed her completely. "There'll be champagne in my dressing room. Would you care for a glass?"  
  
"Think I need it," he muttered, under his breath.  
  
He followed her down the corridor, trying not to laugh as she stopped every minute to exchange air kisses with her co-stars as they passed.  
  
"John."  
  
He turned on hearing his name, seeing Claire and Viv making their way to join him.  
  
"Everything all right?"  
  
"I'm bored out of my brain and being sexually harassed by someone old enough to be my mam. Apart from that, everything's great."  
  
Claire grinned. "You're loving it really."  
  
"I think you know exactly what I'm going to say to that." He grinned back, before turning to Viv. "Looks like your psychological mumbo-jumbo might have failed you."  
  
"The night's still young, John. Don't get too cocky, difficult for you as it may be."  
  
He snorted, unimpressed.  
  
"John, where's Carrie gone?" Claire touched his arm to attract his attention.  
  
He glanced round, not particularly concerned. "She's probably kissing another airhead. She'll be back when she realises I'm not trailing behind at her beckoning call..."  
  
He didn't get chance to finish his witty repartee. A scream pierced the underlying mutter of talking actors. Everyone except the detectives froze, all looking at each other but no one moving to do a thing.  
  
"Oh, for God's sake. If this is because someone's stolen her champagne..." John took off, sprinting in the direction of the scream, leaving the women standing.  
  
He nearly got lost in the maze of corridors, but as he hurtled round a corner his eyes fell on Carrie's dressing room door. He barged inside, more than ready for a fight.  
  
His eyes just managed to catch a flash of movement before he was hit, being sent flying by the force of a body running into him at full pelt. As he hit the floor, he saw a spark of silver, the unmistakeable blade of a knife.  
  
"Oi, C'MERE!" He scrambled to his feet, roaring after the fleeing figure.  
  
A quick glance at Carrie revealed her trembling on the couch, sobbing but unhurt. He left her and took off in pursuit of the suspect, his feet pounding hard into the floor as he pushed himself into his fastest sprint. He'd covered barely a few yards before he had gained on the figure, his advantages of better fitness and strength lending him the edge over the other man. For a split second, his brain reminded him about the knife, but he was already going into attack mode and paid no attention to the warning. He slammed into the back of the suspect's legs, sending them both flying to the ground. The knife skittered away on the shiny linoleum, coming to a stop out of both men's reaches.  
  
"Come on, try it!" John grasped the man's shirt, stilling him with a whack to the jaw. "Just bloody try it!"  
  
He swung his fist back again, ready to land another punch, but the sound of running footsteps stopped him before he could deliver the blow. Claire came to a quick halt. She looked down at the stunned man held by John.  
  
"Anthony?"  
  
X X X  
  
John reached into the ice bucket and tugged the unopened champagne bottle free. Popping the cork, he held the bottle mouth to his lips and drank straight from it, almost choking on the rush of bubbles. Wiping his mouth, he handed it on to Claire, who, abandoning ladylike behaviour, shrugged and followed suit. He moved closer to her, wrapping his arms round her shoulders.  
  
"Good night, wasn't it?" He grinned.  
  
Claire looked about to whack him with the bottle, but didn't have time before the dressing room door opened and Viv entered, followed closely by Carrie.  
  
"Anthony's down at WEC," she announced. "Their patch, their paperwork."  
  
"Amen to that." Claire offered the bottle to her. Viv grinned mischievously and took a swig.  
  
"All right, Carrie?" John looked to the actress.  
  
Her face still looked pale, and her eyes were red from crying. "I just can't believe Anthony..."  
  
"I can't believe you didn't notice," John started up, before Claire silenced him, stepping on his foot with her high heels.  
  
"You'll be all right now." She gave Carrie a reassuring smile. "He's not going to be coming back." She couldn't quite believe it of Anthony herself. Who would have guessed such a pathetic specimen was capable of pulling a stunt like that, finally overwhelmed by the jealousy of being left in the wings whilst Carrie got all the attention.  
  
Carrie gave a ghost of a smile. "Will you be leaving now?"  
  
"Yes, we will." John got to his feet with great satisfaction.  
  
"Thank you for everything you've done. If you ever want to tickets to any of my plays, just let me know."  
  
"Um, yeah... Thanks."  
  
Viv extended her hand to Carrie. "I'd better go back to the hotel and get my stuff. My boss will want my report before I finish tonight. Bye, Carrie."  
  
John watched her leave, unsure of how he should feel.  
  
"I hope I'll see you in the theatre again, John." Carrie turned her attention to him.  
  
"You never know your luck." He shook hands with her, withdrawing quickly in case she tried to kiss him again  
  
"Will you be coming to see the play?"  
  
John grinned. "I'd rather go on a bar crawl with my Chief Super." He winked at her. "See you, Carrie."  
  
X X X  
  
By the time he got outside the theatre, Viv was just flagging down a taxi. John pushed through the group of people standing in by the doors and made his way over to her.  
  
"Going without saying goodbye?"  
  
She looked up at him. "Wasn't sure if you'd want me to."  
  
John moved to hold the cab door open for her as the driver looked impatiently at them. "It was good seeing you again."  
  
Viv nodded and smiled at him. "Maybe we'll meet up again?"  
  
"Yeah. Maybe."  
  
"I hope we do."  
  
John cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure of what to say.  
  
"I hope things work out for you and Claire. You're good together. You make sure she knows she's a very lucky woman."  
  
John grinned. "I'll tell her."  
  
"Well, guess this is it. Bye, John."  
  
She leant forward and kissed his cheek. For a minute, their faces stayed centimetres apart, their eyes locked. Then John stepped back, breaking the electricity that had sparked between them. "Bye."  
  
He stood expressionless as Viv slid into the cab, pulling the door shut behind her. He leant down as she moved to the open window.  
  
"Do you think it could ever have been, John?" she asked, looking deep into his eyes, into his soul.  
  
He was quiet for a long minute before a slow reply formed. "I don't know."  
  
He saw Viv looking past him, behind him. A smile of indistinguishable emotion played on her lips for a split second. John turned and saw Claire waiting for him. His face softened.  
  
"See you, Viv," he said.  
  
Viv watched as he walked away, back to the woman who had claimed him. She knew then, right at that second, that she loved John Boulton, that man of a thousand contradictions and even more moods. She loved him for who he was, but it would do her no good. He could never be hers now. She had let him walk away from her, and now she wouldn't get him back.  
  
She shut the window and nodded to the driver. As the cab drove away, she took one last look back. The lovers were entwined in a tight embrace, their lips sealed together. Viv Hunt swallowed hard, closed her eyes and said goodbye to the man who had taught her to live. 


End file.
